


Ripe in Fortune's Womb (one-shots)

by La Reine Noire (lareinenoire)



Series: Within the Hollow Crown [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Multi, One Shot Collection, Pre-Canon, lady friendships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 03:04:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4771052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lareinenoire/pseuds/La%20Reine%20Noire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one-shots that precede The Assembly of Ladies and The Death of Kings. (Note: These are in the order in which they were written, so they aren't chronological.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to collect a bunch of the one-shots I posted on Tumblr in response to various askbox memes. Each chapter is a separate story, but all of them fit within the Hollow Crown universe (hence why the Princess of Dorne is still named Artemisia even though that almost certainly isn't her canonical name). I'll be adding chapters periodically as I get new prompts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For tywinning (joannalannister).
> 
> Prompt: Joanna Lannister and the Princess of Dorne, children

Her father would have warned her that it wasn't her place to criticise the late and lamented King Aegon, but Artemisia Martell had to bite back curses when she saw the state of Princess Rhaella after the birth of her child and Prince Morgan was not in King’s Landing. Her mother would have agreed. _She's too young to have a child of her own_. Artemisia had spent several years in Summerhall with the princess when she was Rhaella's age and Rhaella a tiny slip of a thing, barely older than her Elia, and she'd always felt oddly protective of the youngest Targaryen.

 

At least Rhaella wasn't alone anymore. Artemisia was the eldest of her ladies by far, but there was another girl with the golden hair and green eyes of the Lannisters who shadowed the princess, carrying books and possets and whatever other trinkets she might want.

 

And, of course, carrying the child. The newborn prince, silver-haired and perfect, and so much quieter than Artemisia's youngest, soon to celebrate his first name-day. Elia was fascinated by him, but Elia was fascinated by all people. Oberyn scarcely noticed, too caught up in his own mischief--and basking in pretty Joanna Lannister's attentions.

 

"He's such a wild little one, isn't he?" she'd asked Artemisia one day soon after her arrival in King's Landing. They were all seated in the godswood, Prince Rhaegar asleep in the nursery and Oberyn squirming in his nurse's arms until she started walking him through the trees. "So different from the prince."

 

"He's the youngest," explained Artemisia. "Perhaps he thinks he needs to make himself heard." Elia was more like Doran, sitting quietly in Lady Joanna's lap and watching as she expertly transformed embroidery floss into a golden Lannister lion on a piece of red silk. With a pang, Artemisia desperately missed her eldest son, leagues away in Salt Shore. _By the time I return, he'll nearly be a man_.

 

She didn't dare wonder what might happen if the threatening army of sellswords actually crossed the Stepstones and reached Sunspear. _The gods protect Dorne. Nymeria, if you watch over us still, let them turn away their swords_.

 

She realised after a moment that Joanna was watching her curiously. "Do you mean to leave them here? Oberyn and Elia? Oberyn is the right age to be a companion to Prince Rhaegar."

 

Artemisia had to fight not to shake her head. Instead she shrugged. "We Martells prefer to keep our children with us when we can. Do you know the story of Princess Daenerys and the Water Gardens?"

 

When Joanna shook her head, Artemisia smiled. "She was the youngest sister of King Daeron II and she married Prince Maron Martell. When she first came to Dorne, she was desperately homesick, as of course she would be. To distract her, he had a great palace built some three leagues from the shadow city of Sunspear, filled with fountains and pools and gardens intended for their children and their children's children."

 

Joanna was listening raptly, her head resting on Elia's dark curls. "It sounds lovely."

 

"It is. And Princess Daenerys made it lovelier still. One day it was especially hot, and she took pity on the servants' children, telling them to join hers in the pools. Since then, all children have been welcome in the Water Gardens." Her eyes met Joanna's. "Yours too, when you should have them."

 

"I might take you up on that," said Joanna. "There is much to love in Casterly Rock, but it's perhaps not the best place for children. Too easy to get lost. Too many rooms and tunnels. Unless, of course, one is my cousin Tywin. I don't think he's ever been lost there."

 

"I couldn't picture it." Tywin Lannister, who had been cupbearer to the late king and was now Prince Aerys' closest companion, was more self-possessed at seventeen than most men twice his age. "Or if he ever was, he'd not admit it."

 

"No, never," Joanna agreed with a grin. "Perhaps you should invite Princess Rhaella to your water gardens once it's safe. They seem like they would do her good."

 

"I might. If you promise to come with her," she added. When Joanna looked startled, Artemisia laughed. "You're good for her, Lady Joanna. She needs that more than anything now."

 

Joanna nodded. "I don't think anyone paid much mind to what she needed before."

 

"No. But we will make sure they do from now on."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For tywinning (joannalannister).
> 
> Prompt: Rhaella and the Princess of Dorne at their children's wedding.

She should have been furious with Aerys. Some part of her was, perhaps, but as Rhaella gazed at the crowd filling Baelor’s Sept and recalled the splendid preparations in the Throne Room, the empty Iron Throne draped in ribbons of red, black, orange, and gold, it seemed as though a shadow had lifted, at least for this day.

 

The last time a Targaryen had wed a Martell in King's Landing had been before the Great Sept of Baelor was finished, and she'd watched so proudly as her son--her perfect, beautiful son--pledged his life and his troth to Elia Martell. _I won't watch my son marry a sunburnt savage_ , Aerys had snapped the previous night. Had Rhaella been a braver woman she might have pointed out that, were he so averse to a Dornish match, he might have married Rhaegar to Lord Tywin's daughter and it was _he_ who turned down the Lord of Casterly Rock.

 

With barely a downward glance, she reached for the hand of the black-haired woman standing beside her, resplendent in red and orange, crowned and veiled in the height of Dornish fashion.

 

"Will he make my daughter happy?" Artemisia had asked her on the long-ago night that they'd announced the betrothal. "Tell me truthfully, Rhaella."

 

She'd wanted to say yes, but she knew her son better than that. There had always been shadows dogging Rhaegar's footsteps. Summerhall and the ghosts of so many dead brothers and sisters. Even little Viserys' antics rarely wrung so much as a smile from his elder brother. "He will make your daughter a queen, Artemisia. If that is what she wants, then yes, he will make her happy."

 

To Rhaella's eye, her new good-daughter looked radiant, the autumnal colours of her bridal gown bringing out the gold in her skin, her long fingers glittering with jewels, save for the one that awaited her wedding ring. She knew, of course, of Elia's illness, as did Rhaegar. _She's clever and good, Mother. That will be enough_. And she'd been raised to rule at her mother's knee, though Rhaella did not mention that.

 

"I confess," Artemisia murmured to her, watching the pair at the altar, "I rather wish they'd just married in Sunspear last year. By now I'd have another grandchild."

 

"Greedy woman," whispered Rhaella. "You already have one. Think of me."

 

"I do think of you, my dear. Always." She squeezed Rhaella's hand. "You should come to see me more often."

 

Neither of them spoke of Aerys. It was an unwritten rule between them.

 

"You know I want to," she finally said, around the sudden lump in her throat. _Mother, let them be happy. Give them children and a long, peaceful reign_. Her eyes found the statue of the Crone, holding her lamp aloft, and she added, _Give my son the wisdom to understand what truly matters_.

 

A cheer rose from the assembled guests as Rhaegar swept the black velvet bride's cloak over Elia's shoulders. It was the same one Rhaella had worn so many years ago, but while the crowd had cheered, she'd only felt the weight of shackles slipping forever into place.

 

"If you ever wanted to leave for good, Rhaella," murmured Artemisia even as she applauded her daughter, "you know where to go. I would shield you, even from him."

 

Rhaella shook her head. "He is my husband, the father of my children. To leave him would be to leave them--I cannot. But I promise _you_ ," she said, turning to face the lady who was one of her oldest and dearest friends--one of the few left now that Cousin Cassana and Joanna Lannister had both been stolen from her, "that I will watch over your daughter as though she were my own."

 

"Thank you. That is the best gift you could give me, dear Rhaella."

 

But she knew, as they both looked back at the altar and their two beautiful children standing there, that Artemisia too was praying inwardly that all would truly be well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For ravencromwell.
> 
> Prompt: could I have something with your Ellaria? During or post-DOK; I'm just very curious about her, especially with her having quite a large influence in Oberyn not going to KL earlier in things with that courtesans' guild threat.:) We often see Ellaria shown as this gentle "balance" to Oberyn, but I don't think I've seen one being as active a player in restraining his worse impulses as yours is, and it is so refreshing!

Ellaria had not grown up in the Water Gardens, but she'd nonetheless been surrounded by brothers, sisters, and cousins in Hellholt, and she knew well how siblings grated on one another.

 

Watching from the bed as Oberyn paced back and forth in their lavishly appointed rooms in Braavos, his sister's latest letter half-crumpled in his hand, she sighed. "Let me see it, love."

 

"She's lying. Even I can see that." He shoved the letter into her hand and she squinted at Princess Elia of Dragonstone's meticulous but tiny handwriting. "She tells me she's well, and yet my mother has word from her physician that Elia nearly died."

 

"And what would you do, Oberyn, if she admitted that she were unwell?"

 

"We'd be on the next ship to Dragonstone."

 

"Precisely. You are her brother and she has just given birth. Surely it is her _husband_ who should concern himself with her first of all--"

 

"Her _husband_ is a half-mad dragon prince who clearly doesn't give a damn for her welfare."

 

"That isn't what Lady Ashara's letter said," Ellaria pointed out. "And, besides, that half-mad dragon prince grievously offended the Grand Maester by allowing your mother's physician to treat Princess Elia. I doubt _she_ would lie even if you're convinced that your sister would."

 

"Are you _defending_ him?" Oberyn demanded, shock sharpening the words.

 

Ellaria shrugged. "I'm doing nothing of the sort. I'm telling you the truth. Did I not promise you that?" On the night she'd first taken him to her bed, Ellaria had given him her solemn oath. _There will be no lies between us, Oberyn Martell. If you lie to me, I will leave you. It is that simple_. "You should trust your sister."

 

"I trust Elia." Oberyn shook his head, teeth gritted. "As for Ashara, she does as Elia bids her."

 

"If you insist." Ellaria might have said more but she came to the final line of the letter and had to bite back an undignified snort of laughter.

 

"What?"

 

"Your sister makes colourful threats, my love. Creative ones too."

 

"She'd never do it."

 

Ellaria raised her eyebrows. "Do you really want to test that? She's got little else to do until she's recovered. I shudder to think what she might come up with."

 

With a shuddering sigh, Oberyn sank onto the bed. Ellaria rolled closer and wrapped her arms around him. "You can't protect her from everything, Oberyn. She's to be queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Like as not, sooner or later she'll be protecting _you_."

 

"From whom?"

 

"Armies of irate husbands, for a start," she suggested, earning herself a bark of laughter and a grin. "Your concern does you credit, love, but I meant what I said. And, besides," she added, nipping at his ear, "if she _does_ blacken your name with the courtesans' guild before my assignation with the Poetess, I will hold you responsible."

 

"Mmm." Oberyn spun in her arms and pinned her down against the sheets. "Was this assignation just for you, Ellaria?"

 

"I might have implied that, if she were so inclined, she could meet the famed Red Viper of Dorne. Provided, of course, that he does not annoy his sister in the meantime."

 

"How can I help but worry?" he asked. "She still trusts that husband of hers. Even after what he did at Harrenhal."

 

"She argued with you about that too." Indeed, from what Ellaria had seen, Oberyn argued with his sister about anything and everything.

 

"She said it was a private jest. She has an interesting definition of privacy if it includes shaming her before the entire realm--"

 

"A crown of flowers means nothing, Oberyn, when your sister is mother to the Iron Throne's heir," Ellaria told him. "Both of them, no less, by Dornish law."

 

"That is Elia's trouble," Oberyn grimaced. "She thinks she can will Dornish ways into being outside of Dorne. Another Princess Myriah, as though this prince were another King Daeron. Mother should never have let her leave."

 

"Or perhaps you should trust in your mother's judgement and in your sister's influence." Ellaria had attended the tourney at Harrenhal alongside her father, two brothers, and a sister, and she'd seen little to be remarked upon in Lyanna Stark. Certainly not when compared to Oberyn's sister. "Let her be, Oberyn. If she needs you, she will send for you. I don't doubt it."

 

Had she not been baseborn, Ellaria might have joined the princess' collection of ladies-in-waiting when she first married Rhaegar Targaryen, but there was no place for a bastard daughter in King Aerys' court. And she would not have had it any other way. Drawing Oberyn down for a kiss, she proceeded to distract him in the best ways she knew. Princess Elia knew what she was doing--it was what she had been trained to do from the cradle, even if such training was a mystery to one such as Ellaria Sand.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For joannalannister and velatavelenosa.

 

It had been years now since Rhaella had climbed the seemingly endless stairs in the Tower of the Hand. Aerys, rather to her relief, scarcely seemed to have noticed that she'd returned, although Rhaegar was now no doubt getting an earful from his father on the subject of Dorne, to which he'd nod seriously without even listening. It was a skill Rhaella had never quite mastered.

 

The king didn't yet know about the betrothal, nor did Rhaella intend to be the one to tell him. That, she'd decided, would be Tywin's job. It was cowardly of her, perhaps, but Aerys would be furious and Tywin was better equipped to manage him in that state. Countless times on the journey back from Sunspear, she'd gazed from the stern of the ship and wondered what might have happened if she'd just stayed there with Artemisia. _Impossible_. Not without Viserys, whose absence had tugged sharply at her heart every time she saw the children at play in the Water Gardens.

 

Rhaegar had even asked her in all seriousness on their final night in the palace, and that had been her answer. _I cannot leave your brother. The two of you are my dearest legacy and I would be a poor excuse for a mother if I left you for my own comfort_. But at least Rhaegar's future was settled now. And there was nothing wrong with a Dornish queen, no matter what Aerys believed.

 

She came to a halt outside the Hand's chambers, guarded by a pair of guardsmen in Lannister red-and-gold wearing equally matching expressions of surprise. Her identity was unquestionable, but Aerys had kept her in seclusion for so long that she no longer recognised the retainers she had once known.

 

"Your Grace?" one of them ventured, his cheeks reddening nearly to the colour of his livery. "You're here to see Lord Tywin."

 

"If he's not busy," Rhaella demurred. "I can wait if he is."

 

Tywin looked up as she was shown in and Rhaella saw new lines of strain in his face. He and Aerys were of an age, and only a year or two her senior, but they both seemed so much older since the madness at Duskendale. "Your Grace, how may I be of service?"

 

"Really, Tywin, there's no need to stand on ceremony with me. Surely we've known one another too long for that." Rhaella seated herself in one of the velvet-cushioned chairs and glanced round the chamber. Before Joanna's death, there had been a small portrait of her on the massive desk, painted at the same time as the one that still hung in Rhaella's own bedchamber. Where he had taken it, she couldn't have said, but the thought saddened her.

 

"You look well," said Tywin. "Very well, in fact."

 

"The journey did me much good. I cannot thank you enough for reasoning with him." Aerys had predictably balked at her plans to travel to Dorne without him, and it had only been Tywin's interference--and, she suspected, threats made behind her back--that convinced Aerys to let her go, even if he'd refused to let her bring Viserys. Rhaegar had slipped away to Summerhall and met them at Sunspear, unbeknownst to his father until they both returned together earlier that day. "Which is why I'm telling you first, before Aerys."

 

Tywin glanced down at the letter he had presumably been reading before her arrival, and then back to her, his green eyes unreadable. "Rhaegar was with you in Dorne. I hadn't known that."

 

Rhaella shrugged. "Rhaegar is a man grown. He goes where he pleases, whatever his father may say about it."

 

"What did you wish to tell me?"

 

"He will marry Elia Martell six months from now. The Princess and I came to an arrangement and all parties have been satisfied."

 

"She's sickly." Only the twist of his lip gave away his annoyance. "You could have chosen far better."

 

"They suit one another well enough for my liking. And her mother has borne three healthy children." She did not mention the two who had died as babes between Doran and Elia, though no doubt Tywin knew of them already. "Rhaegar likes her."

 

"Hm. If you say so."

 

"Tywin, I tried all those years ago, but you know Aerys when his mind is set on something." She might still have pushed her son toward Cersei Lannister had the girl not been too young. _I can't do that to an innocent girl. Not to Joanna's daughter_. Joanna and Artemisia had seen her through those dreadful days immediately following Rhaegar's birth; they all _knew_ how dangerous it was to bear a child too young. But that was something Tywin could never understand. "I tell you this is for the best."

 

"Daeron II was misliked for being over-fond of Dornish customs and Dornish women alike. I trust Rhaegar will be more sensible."

 

"Of course he will," said Rhaella. She had never thought to ask Tywin why he'd turned down Artemisia's offer to wed his eldest son to Elia--truly, she'd just thought his mind addled with grief for Joanna and assumed the offence on Artemisia's side, out of character as it seemed. "As for Aerys..."

 

"He won't approve."

 

"He won't approve of Rhaegar's wife no matter who she is," Rhaella retorted. It was her fault, as far as Aerys was concerned, for her inability to produce a daughter. "I would much rather Rhaegar choose a lady for himself, and so he has."

 

"So he has, indeed." Tywin straightened in his chair. "Was that all, Your Grace?"

 

Rhaella frowned at him for a moment before nodding slowly. "Yes, that was all. No doubt you're very busy."

 

"Does the king know yet? About the betrothal."

 

"No, he doesn't." She had to fight not to lower her eyes as she might have done long ago with her father and grandsire on the few occasions that she'd tried to stand up to them. Strange that Tywin of all people was so good at making her feel like a misbehaving child.

 

"Then I suppose I'll have to tell him. Six months, you say."

 

"He needn't do anything. I'll handle all the preparations."

 

"We both know that won't help."

 

For a moment, she saw regret in his face and she remembered the story Rhaegar had told her after they first returned from Duskendale. _I wanted them to save Father, truly I did, but even Lord Tywin didn't seem sure_. Rhaegar had always valued Tywin's advice over his father's, and it had been Tywin who stood before the gates of Duskendale and _dared_ the Darklyns to execute Aerys that he might destroy them as he had the Reynes and Tarbecks. _We have a better king right here_ , he'd said, gesturing to Rhaegar beside him. Rhaegar had insisted that it was a ruse, but she knew better. After all, Tywin's words had but echoed her own silent, guilty prayers before the Seven every evening while Aerys had been imprisoned.

 

"Thank you, Tywin," she finally said. "For all that you've done."

 

He inclined his head. "It is my duty, Your Grace. I would see it performed to your satisfaction, and the king's."

 

"And my son's, one day. Of that you may rest assured."

 

As she descended the staircase, she couldn't help but wish Joanna were still here to smooth away the cares from her husband's mind, to keep him from worrying as he still clearly did at Aerys' too-blunt refusal of his daughter. _The right decision for the wrong reason_. But that had ever been Aerys' way.

 

She could only hope that Tywin's ambitions for Rhaegar were strong enough to withstand her capricious brother's cruelty. For certain, she was not.


End file.
